


corporis

by whereshiphappens (xiiis16)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, M/M, Theo and Stiles met in college, loads of anatomy in this, studying (of sorts), to be fair it could be post canon with canon divergences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiiis16/pseuds/whereshiphappens
Summary: Theo shrugs a little, “I just, I thought I heard you doubt my anatomy knowledge just earlier, maybe Ishouldstudy.” The hint of sarcasm, mixed with fake seriousness has Stiles biting off the urge to laugh, “maybe you shouldshut up,” Stiles tells him instead, matter-of-factly. Fucking little shit.Theo laughs, has theaudacityof pulling away to dodge Stiles when he tries to go for another kiss, and Stiles groans in frustration, head falls back on the bed as he rolls his eyes. Fuck this is going to be a thing, isn’t it?“No, I feel like I need to show you,” Theo says, voice low.
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69
Collections: Steo Back2School Day 2020





	corporis

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys!!!  
> I did this one for the **SteoBack2SchoolDay** event going on on tumblr, go check the tag [and the page](https://steoevents.tumblr.com/) :D
> 
> Right so, I totally nerded the fuck out on this one, I've had this idea for the longest time, and never really got around to write it, until now. I had so much fucking fun doing this, honestly. I can only hope you find it half as fun yourselves!
> 
> As the tags say, this is a college/uni AU of sorts, and you can run with your own headcanons as to what both of them are studying, the only detail that's important about it, is that Theo has anatomy classes :) 
> 
> little disclaimer, everything regarding anatomy and physiology i described is real and correct as far as I learnt/was taught, although simplified here (because i wouldn't want to bore you to death) but don't use it as a source, of course! ahah, go check out Seeley's Anatomy & Physiology or Grey's Anatomy (book, not show lol) to study proper anatomy, my babes :D
> 
> I hope you enjoy this :D let me know, my dears xx

* * *

When Stiles left his dorm earlier, it wasn’t threatening to snow. Snowing isn’t odd for a December in Virginia, per se - but the last couple days it has been actually sunny. Always cold, of course, and as if on queue Stiles stuffs his hand deeper into his old dark red hoodie, with Beacon Hills High School written across the front of it as a chill runs through him. The sweatpants aren’t much against the wind either.

It didn’t look like it was going to snow, _is the point_. Because if it did, then Stiles would probably have put on decent shoes for his less-than-an-hour long task of getting himself some coffee, to get started with studying properly. He needed to get his shit somewhat organised now that he had the dorm to himself and was still a whole week until his roommate - and the rest of the school - was back. 

As he reaches the door of the building, there’s already some of the snow falling on his shoulders leaving damp stains on the fabric of the hoodie that Stiles doesn’t feel, thanks to the two (two?) shirts he’s wearing underneath. Careful not to spill his coffee he jogs up the stairs, all the while thinking of a plan of attack, where he should start, what’s more important.

The list is slowly coming together in his head as he reaches his door, opens it and steps inside, turning to close and lock it.

He turns around and his coffee almost slips right out his hand into the ground.

“ _Jesus,”_ he curses, keys in the hand that’s not holding the cup of coffee coming up to take his hood off his head; flinches as the keys swing against his forehead, eyes fixed on Theo sitting on his bed. Stiles’ heart rate picks up at it.

Theo chuckles at himself as he looks down shaking his head. “I thought you’d be gone by the time I came back,” Stiles explains, moving towards his desk to put the offending keys down, rubs at his forehead for a moment with his free hand and brings his coffee up to his mouth to drink it as he takes Theo in.

Theo’s still barefoot which tells Stiles he had no intention of even starting to get ready to leave, if his shoes by the other side of the room are anything to go by. Theo shrugs lazily, “what’s the rush?” he says with a smirk curling up on his lip, voice rough from the lack of use. He’s probably not even been _awake_ for that long.

Stiles puts his coffee down, his head falls back and he sighs out loud in something akin to frustration and defeat at the same time. “Theo, I need you gone if I actually want to be productive,” Stiles counters, crossing his arms on his chest and glaring at Theo with an eyebrow raised, stubborn. 

Theo meets the look Stiles gives him, something flickers in his eyes and he lowers his head looking at Stiles that way he does sometimes, intense, just a tad primal, challenging. He stretches his arms outwards and back, brings his hands to the bed, and leans back to sprawl himself all over it. Theo drags himself back, propped on his elbows only, his grey sweatpants stretched by his spread knees and one of his legs bent, foot on the bed. 

“Being productive is _so_ relative, Stiles,” he tells him as he stretches, that morning raspy tone of his voice that echoes right down Stiles’ spine. His mouth parts just a little before he slaps his lips back shut. The way he’s stretching his body - he’s exaggerating it on purpose, oh, Stiles _knows_ him, knows exactly what he’s doing. Oh god, he’s so _infuriating_.

Stiles puts the coffee down, brings his hands to his face and groans.

“Out of all the dumb, stupid decisions I made in my life, you’re the most frustrating one, I swear to _God,”_ Stiles half groans half whines, covering his eyes and turning away from Theo. As if that helps.

It’s absolutely true, though.

Stiles thinks about it a lot, ever since that first time with Theo. Even _then_ . He remembers staring at Theo’s stupid _gorgeous_ face as he slept next to him and thinking loud and clear, high on endorphins, head still on another level, ‘ _oh this is the best bad idea I’ve ever had.”_

Maybe that’s why he decided to keep it a secret from everyone back home. And everyone here. Like his own roommate. Which, inevitably brought them to this - Theo wanting to spend every single moment they have alone together.

And Stiles gets it, he _does_ !, because he wants that too, he wants to do nothing more but stay in that fucking bed all day, tangled in Theo and fuck each other silly and do cringy shit like watching movies under the blankets while the snow keeps getting higher and higher on the ground outside. It’s _disgusting_ how much the thought alone tugs at his heart and he will never ever _ever_ admit to thinking it- fuck, he wants that so much right now _._ But he can’t, is the thing.

He shakes his head as if to clear out his head of this dumb ridiculous thoughts. Someone needs to be responsible! The semester is about to start and they need to get their shit together and study.

Stiles looks at Theo again. Theo moves to get off the bed.

And maybe, also, Stiles needs to not be around Theo so much because god he’s _feeling things_ just by looking at his face, and he’s not supposed to. Stiles can’t think of anything else but Theo all day and he ignores the damn butterflies and funny jumps his heart makes and _fuck!,_ he needs something else in his brain before it’s too late. It’s fucking _scary._

As Theo walks over and invades Stiles’ space, Stiles just stands still, watching him. 

“I think I’m also your favourite dumb, stupid decision, _sweetheart_ ,” Theo whispers, eyes drifting between Stiles’ eyes and his mouth with his eyebrows pinched and his half lidded eyes in the most amused and full of himself expression Stiles has ever seen on someone’s face, before he pecks his lips. Stiles feels his cheeks heat up. What the fuck does Stiles even see in him? He’s so infuriating, such a cocky piece of shit _asshole_.

Stiles must definitely have a thing for those.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, aren’t you?” Stiles narrows his eyes at him, giving him a light push to get him out of his face, so that Stiles can fucking function. It pisses Stiles off just about the same amount as it turns him on, this arrogant way of his.

Theo nods, agreeing, gives him a full blown smile that he bites down on before, “don’t you also wanna be full of me?”

Stiles' mouth falls open automatically as he words leave Theo’s mouth, “ _Oh, my god, Theo!_ ” Stiles cries out, trying to sound indignant, his voice betraying him completely, breaking into a laugh as he pushes Theo out of his way.

Theo laughs as well, still biting the smile off his lips as he turns around, fixes his shirt as he looks back at Stiles, who’s sitting down on the bed, working on taking his shoes off, just, doing something to stop his brain from getting too imaginative based on those words alone. This bit right here is the part that Stiles is a little too hooked on for his own good - how much Theo has no problem verbalizing how much he wants Stiles. It’s overwhelming and almost dizzying in the best damn way, to be this _wanted_. He’s not used to it.

All his previous _pseudo_ relationships weren't like this at all. Maybe that’s why Stiles keeps flinching and jolting away, untrusting, whenever Theo gets too close.

“It’s a serious offer,” Theo adds and Stiles chucks one of the shoes at him, as he’s bent down, failing miserably as he wasn’t even aiming - it’s more the general intention of the gesture anyway. 

“I need to study!” Stiles blurts out as he straightens again, starts taking off his hoodie, “You need to study as well” he says, sounding muffled around the fabric of the hoodie he’s trying to remove without having his shirt ride up (turns out it’s just one, no wonder it was cold). “Therefore, you should leave! To your own room! To study!” Stiles finishes, hair tousled, sitting on the bed as he throws his hoodie off to his desk chair. He’s pretty sure his cheeks are red.

Theo takes a moment to just stare at him, eye him up and down for a moment before focusing back on his face, “you’re giving me very mixed signals, here,” Theo jokes in a fake serious tone of voice, betrayed by the glint in his eye.

Again, Stiles whines, “stop!” he drawls out and chuckles, can’t help himself, “stop making my life so difficult right now, just go study, don’t you have that messed up anatomy teacher again next semester? Don’t you need to be revising or some shit?”

Theo smiles, “I really don’t.” he says, stressing the ‘really’. Stiles’ mouth shuts on a tense line, frustration all over his face. Theo moves again, slowly towards the bed.

“I can show it to you,” he says, and Stiles hates how he stops and looks at Theo, interest peaked, “how I have my anatomy knowledge” Theo pauses for a second, mischievous look on his face “on the tip of my tongue.”

Fuck, just like that. It pisses Stiles off how effortless it is for Theo. How he entices Stiles, makes him change his mind, says the right words and has his brain going into a whirlwind, pictures in his head tugging at his chest and making his heart beat so crazy it almost hurts his ribs. 

“Unless,” Theo starts, eyebrows raised, “you’re not really worried about school, and that’s not the reason you want me gone,” there’s a fake sort of innocence in his tone of voice that both riles Stiles up and makes him like and hate Theo more. It tells Stiles that Theo knows he’s got Stiles already, but loves to play around with him nonetheless. “If you want me gone, I’ll go, it’s whatever you want, Stiles.”

It’s fake, all of it. Even if Stiles couldn’t recognise that tone of voice. Fucking asshole, Stiles is a fucking _goner_.

One thing Theo always respects, did respect even back when Stiles was a confused mess of conflicting feelings and angsty horny thoughts in everything regarding Theo, is Stiles’ boundaries. Theo is always _patient_ . He waits for Stiles; he stuck around until Stiles sorted his head out like no one else really did. Stiles would be lying if he said his persistence and patience wasn’t one of the things that made him finally comfortable enough to finally _give in_ , and isn’t one of the things that make Stiles not freak out, but stay.

Theo always respects Stiles’ limits, and can recognise them sometimes even better than Stiles.

So this whole speech - it’s not that he doesn’t mean it, because he does, he always does; it’s that he _knows_ it’s not the case at all. He’s calling Stiles’ bluff is what he’s doing. He knows Stiles doesn’t actually want him to go. That’s how well Theo can read Stiles.

Stiles makes a sound in the back of his throat, “stop fucking around,” he whispers as he reaches up his hand comes up around Theo’s neck to make him bend down a little, closer to Stiles’ mouth. Theo steadies himself with his hands on Stiles’ knees.

It’s a messy kiss, the aggressive kind that’s more biting and clashing than actually proper kissing. Theo pulls back only to push at Stiles shoulder gently, straightens back up, “say you want me to stay,” Theo tells him in a quiet voice that comes out raspy and, combined with the way Theo is looking down on him, smirk on the corner of his mouth - it does _things_ to Stiles. 

Fuck, it’s not like another morning is going to make a big difference, right?

“Come here,” Stiles whines, as he moves back on the bed, taking Theo’s arm to pull him with.

Theo goes, with a cheeky smile on his face and that glint in his eye again, “you sure?” he breathes against the skin on Stiles’ jaw, teasing, before they kiss again. Theo settles over Stiles, their legs tangled, and uses his forearm to keep some of his weight off and pull back when he breaks the kiss, to look at Stiles. 

Stiles doesn’t let him speak again, “ _Yes,”_ he hisses, covering Theo’s mouth with a hand, glares at him. “Don’t be a little shit, enjoy the fact I changed my mind,” Stiles continues. He can see the smile reaching Theo’s eyes as the other boy uses one of his hands to pull at the one Stiles has covering his mouth.

Theo shrugs a little, “I just, I thought I heard you doubt my anatomy knowledge just earlier, maybe I _should_ study.” The hint of sarcasm, mixed with fake seriousness has Stiles biting off the urge to laugh, “maybe you should _shut up,”_ Stiles tells him instead, matter-of-factly. Fucking little shit.

Theo laughs, has the _audacity_ of pulling away to dodge Stiles when he tries to go for another kiss, and Stiles groans in frustration, head falls back on the bed as he rolls his eyes. Fuck this is going to be a thing, isn’t it?

“No, I feel like I need to show you,” Theo says, voice low. He lays half on top of Stiles, half on his right side, leg pushing to settle in between Stiles’.

“ _Theo,”_ Stiles whines, dragging out his name, but Theo ignores him.

“Shall we start from the top? Bones first?” Theo says, takes a second to just stare at Stiles, and then his expression goes a little softer as he brings his face down to nuzzle just to the right side and under Stiles’ jaw, lips brushing against the skin there.

“Mandible,” he names, runs his lips up towards Stiles’ cheekbones so, so slowly, “Zygoma,” moves a little to the side, towards Stiles’ ear, the barest of touches, “Zygomatic _arch,”_ and places a kiss there. Where is this going?

Without meaning to, Stiles finds himself holding his breath for a second, closes his eyes as Theo’s lips move up on his face, “temporal bone,” he whispers and then continues to move over Stiles’ eyebrow, where he stops to kiss as well, “supraorbital ridge.”

Stiles exhales, and the softness of Theo’s touches have his body relaxing, his hands fall by the side of his head and he feels himself settle a little, almost hypnotized by Theo’s soft touches and quiet voice. 

The energy shifts, and both of them calm down.

Theo pulls back a little to keep his eyes on Stiles’, brings his right hand up to his face instead, fingers gentle as they touch Stiles’ forehead, “frontal bone,” Stiles’ eyes flutter shut again for a moment as Theo’s fingers run straight down in the direction of his nose, “frontal fissure, just along your midsagittal plane,” Stiles’ mouth falls open a little, breathing just a little bit more heavy. The fingers stop just in between Stiles’ eyebrows, “where some of your facial landmarks are.”

With just a finger this time, Theo presses against the point between Stiles’ eyebrows, “glabella,” then down, at the very beginning of his nose bridge, in between his eyes, “nasion,” down his nose to the space between it and Stiles’ lips, “acanthion,” and further down, finally, to Stiles’ chin, “mental point.”

Theo’s fingers stay soft, ghostly like on Stiles’ skin as he runs them along Stiles’ jaw to the side, towards his ear, “here is the angle of your mandible, or _gonion_ ” Theo whispers and then brings his fingers up towards Stiles’ ear, “tragus.”

Theo moves to place a kiss on the lobe of Stiles’ ear, has him whining softly at the touch, and his hand comes up to his head, brushes his hair back and keeps the grip there as Stiles’ mouth falls open again and he turns, his mouth chasing Theo’s, who dodges it once again.

 _God_ , he’s killing Stiles.

“In your cranium, there are twelve pairs of nerves; cranial nerves, if you will. I’ll keep it simple,” Theo starts, the hand on Stiles’ hair keeping him from lifting his head and coming after Theo when he pulls back. 

“One, olfactory: smell” he starts, takes a second to nuzzle at Stiles’ neck again, and Stiles feels him _smelling him_ and moans, can’t help himself. “Two, optic: sight” He comes back to look at Stiles, who’s eyes lock with him immediately. “Do you see my pupils?” he asks, and Stiles nods. They’re blown, “That’s number three, oculomotor; and together with number four, trochlear, and number six, abducens, it controls all eye movement.”

Stiles blinks up at him, for some reason hooked on every single word that leaves Theo’s mouth. Maybe he’s genuinely interested in what he’s saying, maybe it’s just the way his voice sounds - maybe it’s hearing him speak so fluently, with confidence about something; whatever it is, it’s keeping Stiles’ attention and at the same time having his brain run wild, as he’s focused on Theo’s mouth.

“Five, trigeminal,” Theo blows softly and the air hits Stiles’ face, “somatic sensation from the face. Seven is facial: that one controls the movements of the face,” Theo bites his lip and for some reason Stiles does as well and Theo smiles, nods, “yeah.”

Then, Theo dives back again so his lips are right up to Stiles’ ear, “eight, vestibulocochlear: that’s hearing, but also your balance,” he mumbles, voice raspy and low. The hand Theo had on Stiles’ hair moves towards his chest instead.

“Nine, glossopharyngeal,” Theo carries on, and moves to Stiles’ lips, kisses him, taking him by surprise in his dazed state, “taste.” Stiles can feel the way his heartbeat picks up and Theo smiles as he glances down at the hand he has on Stiles’ chest and Stiles moves his head down to look at it as well, for some reason. 

“Ten, vagus: heart rate,” Theo says around a grin, clearly pleased, “and other autonomic functions.” 

His hand comes up to hold Stiles’ chin, that Theo uses to move Stiles’ head up slightly again so he’s better facing Theo, “Eleven, spinal accessory: head movement.”

Stiles feels like a puppet - like his mind has dozed off and his body is just there, reacting to every sensation that Theo’s setting off.

His fingers spread so they’re properly holding Stiles’ jaw as he leans in, “And finally, twelve, hypoglossal,” Theo looks at Stiles with half lidded eyes and parted lips, gives him a tiny little smirk and says “tongue movement.”

Then he comes down and properly kisses Stiles, not wasting a single second in diving his tongue into Stiles’ willing mouth, that greets him like he’s been jolted awake from a trance, hands coming up around Theo’s neck and body arching, looking to get closer to Theo’s, moaning around his mouth and the kiss.

It feels like impossible heat taking over Stiles’ body with the way Theo’s tongue is relentless against his, demanding, barely giving him time to catch up, let alone breathe. Stiles’ body starts moving without Stiles’ permission, hips rolling up to grind against the leg Theo has between Stiles’ and that’s when Theo breaks the kiss.

“Shall we do muscles?” he asks, licking his red lips as he smirks at Stiles, clearly seeing how disoriented this is making Stiles. He’s loving every second of it, Stiles knows. Theo kisses Stiles’ jaw, “masseter muscle” he whispers, against Stiles’ skin, and then moves down so his mouth is at Stiles’ neck, “sternocleidomastoid muscle,” and he bites down on it, making Stiles’ whine.

“Theo, c’mon, _c’mon_ just-” Stiles begs, hips shooting forward once again, moving erratically for the second it takes Theo to pull back and wrap his hand around Stiles’ neck to hold him down on the bed, shut him up, eyebrows high on his forehead in a warning expression.

“I was going to talk to you about the larynx and your hyoid bone,” he takes a second to move his hand back slightly so that his thumb can go over Stiles’ adam’s apple, but then puts it back around Stiles’ neck, “but maybe we should do vessels, next.”

Stiles’ breathing picks up, and he feels a chill going down his spine. _Shit_.

“External and internal jugular veins,” Theo says, still looking down on Stiles’ from his position slightly above him, “and common carotid artery, both on the left and right.” Again, Theo comes now, mouth by Stiles’ ear.

“Do you know what happens when I squeeze those?” he whispers, and his fingers press on the both sides of Stiles’ neck and immediately, Stiles feels his heartbeat shoot and his breathing stagger. _Fuck, shit, oh my god!_

Then, Theo pushes his hips down against Stiles’ crotch and Stiles’ eyes flutter, the pressure of his hands and the explosion of heat at his gut being just a little too much. “I’m partially cutting off the supply of oxygenated blood to your brain and your neck and your face,” Theo continues whispering right against Stiles’ ear, his voice wavering just a second as he grinds against Stiles’ dick without letting go of his neck.

Stiles’ mouth falls open, he can feel himself going a little light headed and his eyelids flutter with all the sensations at the same time contradictory but complementing each other. Fuck, it’s unholy how the pressure feels so, so, _so_ fucking god. 

“But then, when I let go and it comes rushing back in,” Theo’s hand goes away, and Stiles gasps, hands grabbing at the sheets by his side, body arching just a little chasing Theo as he lets out a loud moan. He can hear Theo’s laugh, not teasing or amused, but _delighted_ like Stiles’ physical reactions are the world’s best thing.

It’s messed up how Stiles is _so hard_. 

Theo comes back down after he moves away to Stiles’ arm is in between them on the bed, pulls Stiles’ shirt down a little on the collar and kisses Stiles’ collarbones, “clavicle,” he says, moving towards his shoulder, his hand comes to touch a bony protuberance at the end of his clavicle, “acromion,” he names and moves to his shoulder, “humerus.” His hand moves down his arm towards his elbow, and back up, pulling the sleeve of Stiles’ t-shirt up a little.

Stiles’ feels a little overwhelmed with the back and forward that Theo is putting him through - his mind is all over the place, the stimulation too much and not enough at the same time.

Stiles feels like he’s under a spell of some sorts, eyes following Theo’s movement. Once at his shoulder again, Theo’s fingers trace his skin there, “this muscle is called deltoid,” he says, hand coming further up and around until his fingers curl slightly to the back of his shoulder, “over your scapula is the trapezius muscle.”

Contrary to the hand that was around Stiles’ neck just a moment ago, Theo’s touch is soft and barely there now, leaves goosebumps chasing down Stiles’ spine as he brings them down his arm outstretched along his body again, and Stiles wants _more,_ “biceps brachii muscle,” Theo names, continues further down towards his elbow as he says “and brachioradialis.”

“Theo, I’m going to fucking _pass out_ ,” Stiles says, a little erratic, his free hand coming down to his own dick before he can help himself - he just needs something!

Theo takes it away though, “ _shhh,_ ” he hushes, pushes Stiles’ hand against the sheets by the side of his head, away from his body and Stiles whines.

“As for vessels,” Theo continues, locking eyes with Stiles’ for a second who probably looks as disheveled as he feels, “your brachial artery runs here,” he traces his bicep again and then a second finger joins the first at the elbow as they run separated down Stiles’ forearm, “then turns into your radial artery,” he taps the one further away from his body, “and your ulnar artery,” and he taps the one closest to his torso his time around, letting his whole hand slide down his forearm, “radius and ulna”.

Theo’s hand then proceeds to take Stiles’ wrist, bends his arm so he can bring his wrist closer to both of them. How can he keep this calm when Stiles feels like an absolute mess?

“There’s two rows of tiny bones in your wrist: carpal bones,” he brings Stiles’ wrist closer to his mouth to kiss it slowly, then he starts naming them, “scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum and pisiform in one row. Trapezium, trapezoid, capitate and hamate in the other.”

Stiles closes his eyes, scrunches his face up like he can’t take much more of this slow touch anymore. The heat of Theo’s body, his low, almost lazy, voice are driving him crazy and it’s fucking _impossible_ that Theo is able to keep his composure it’s fucking _unfair_. When he opens his eyes, Stiles can feel himself whimpering, looking at Theo with begging eyes. 

He brought this on himself, Stiles thinks. He should know that Theo is a fucked up little shit, who would tease the fuck out of Stiles. He can almost hear Theo’s mind when he looks at him with a mischievous look on his eyes _didn’t you say I needed to study?_. Stiles is a stubborn son of a bitch - he’s the type of idiot to withstand all of this just to prove a fucking point; but his resolve is quivering. 

Keeping eye contact with Stiles, Theo takes Stiles’ hand and moves it down in between them.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Stiles as Theo guides his hand towards his own crotch and Stiles feels that Theo is just about as hard as he is - he’s just a sadistic asshole that enjoys this torture more. 

Oh fuck him. Fuck him!

“I know, baby,” Theo mumbles, nodding at Stiles and when Stiles makes another pitiful sound and turns his chin up at Theo, he obliges the silent request and comes down to kiss his mouth again. This time slow and languid and breathy and fuck, it doesn’t help calm Stiles’ heart beat, or his ragging hard on the slightest. He pushes his hand against Theo’s dick, dying to get him to snap and _do something_ but the other boy pulls back, and instead moves to take Stiles’ t-shirt off.

Stiles’ heart gives an excited little leap on his chest as they get rid of his shirt, and then Theo’s mouth is on Stiles’ chest. “Pectoralis major,” he names, just before his tongue laps at Stiles’ right nipple. Theo’s hand comes to hold Stiles’ waist at the side, “external oblique,” moves up until his fingers are just under his armpit and names the muscles as he drags his fingers towards the center of Stiles’ chest, “latissimus dorsi, serratus anterior”.

Theo’s mouth speaks in between pauses of kissing his skin. For a fleeting moment of crazed lucidity, Stiles’ almost laughs, amused at the idea that Theo can remember all of these names and pronounce them right, while still getting him all worked up. He moves his head to the center of Stiles’ chest.

“Your sternum is divided into four,” he starts, looks up at Stiles while his mouth comes down to kiss his skin again, proceeds to kiss down the sternum at the right spots in the middle of Stiles’ chest as he names ”manubrium, angle, body, and xiphoid process.”

Again, goosebumps break all over Stiles and he brings a hand up to his face as he scrunches up his face in a painful expression, cries out as Theo gives him friction again, rolling his hips against Stiles’. He’s going to go insane. This is it. Theo is finally going to fucking driving him insane.

Theo’s right hand hovers just to the side of Stiles’ sternum, “the base of your heart is usually by your second or third rib,” he says, looking down at Stiles’ skin like he’s able to see right through to the heart.

(And can’t he?, Stiles thinks for a delirious second there)

He moves his hand a little bit down, “the apex is at the level of the fifth.” He looks back at Stiles, comes up to meet his mouth and Stiles moans, unable to control himself.

“I don’t need to tell you about your lungs or your diaphragm, do I?” Theo asks Stiles, who shakes his head violently, hoping that, maybe this is it, this is the end to Theo’s little game and he’s going to finally fucking _touch him properly_ now.

Theo bites his lip as he looks at Stiles, “amazing thing, the heart, though,” he starts, and Stiles can’t help but stare. “Isn’t it incredible how it just knows how to beat?” again, Theo looks down at Stiles’ bare chest, like he can see inside.

“Do you remember action potential, Stiles? It’s made of depolarization and repolarization of a cell, when a stimulus that goes over the cell’s threshold makes its channels open to let sodium enter, and mess up the balance of sodium and potassium inside. It creates an explosion of electrical activity.” 

Stiles nods vaguely, it sounds familiar. His head is so far away though, even if he’s looking right at Theo, all he can think about is the heat in his gut and how much he wants Theo to touch him. 

“Every cell has a refractory period after an action potential, to recover,” Theo says, brushes his lips against Stiles but doesn’t quite kiss him as he keeps talking, “it’s usually shorter than the action potential itself. But not the heart’s.”

And Theo looks up at him, a soft look on his face, fingers spread over Stiles’ heart, Stiles holds his breath, and when he continues he whispers, “the heart’s refractory period is longer. The wait until it’s back to work again is longer. To protect itself.” There’s a pause and they just stare at each other in silence, pausing for a second.

It feels heavy between them, like there’s something going unsaid with those words. But it’s not bad. Stiles feels a warmth spread across his chest and he breathes again, it picks up a little as he brings his hand up to Theo’s face, brushes his fingers against his cheek, looking all over his face and moves up, kissing him softly.

Even with his brain drowning in all sorts of sensations and the frustration of being so turned on he can barely function, he hopes that Theo gets the _thank you_ . For respecting Stiles’ _refractory period_.

When he pulls back, Theo is smiling, and the glint in his eye is back.

The hand on his chest slides down from his chest to his tummy, “rectus abdominis muscle,” he says, reaching Stiles’ belly button, and Stiles closes his eyes, breathing worked up again.

It’s the back and forth, it’s the damn back and forth that drives him up the fucking walls and destroys his sanity.

“Do I need to speak about the organs?” Theo asks, and Stiles shakes his head furiously.

“I know them,” Stiles blurts out, licks his lips, and nods at Theo in reassurance. He knows them, of course, Theo can skip it, Theo can just move on, Theo has proved his _fucking point_ already!

“Do you know which vessels supply their blood?” Theo asks, eyebrows raised and an amused expression on his face. He moves down on Stiles’ body in a sudden movement, head just where his hand previously was, by Stiles’ belly button, pushes Stiles’ legs to the side to fit right in the middle, and both his hands come to Stiles’ side to hold him, just under his ribs.

Stiles can’t help the hands that follow to grip Theo’s arms. Stiles feels his body vibrate with want.

“Inferior vena cava and abdominal aorta that divide into common iliac veins and iliac arteries respectively,“ Theo places a kiss by Stiles’ belly button, “right here.”

“Theo,” Stiles breathes, but Theo brings one of his hands down to push at the hem of Stiles’ sweatpants, and his boxers, to reveal the protruding bone there by his side.

“This bone, on your pelvis, is called iliac crest,” he says, brings his hand around to follow it as it curves a little inward, down towards his legs, “anterior superior iliac spine, or ASIS,” he says, smiles up at Stiles, who cries out, the muscles on his legs flexing to keep himself from thrusting up into Theo. He’s so close, damn it, he’s so close to where Stiles wants him.

“ _Please_ , Theo,” Stiles begs, feels so hot all over he’s not even ashamed anymore, arches his bag when Theo pulls at his sweatpants a little more, letting them sit so dangerously low it’s fucking _pornographic_ , so what’s the damn point in leaving them on?

Theo uses his hand to steady Stiles’ leg, “femur,” he says, around a grin, knowing perfectly well he’s reaching Stiles’ limit and milking it for all he’s got. He taps the outside of Stiles’ hip “great trochanter,” and then moves to the inside, knuckles brushing against Stiles’ dick and making Stiles jolt, “lesser trochanter,” Theo adds, full on chuckling.

Stiles groans, brings his hands up to cover his face in frustration as that small accidental touch alone has his body jolting like a fucking _virgin_ or something. It fucking mesmerizes him and annoys him how Theo knows how to do this to him, how he can get him so worked up, how he can play his body like an instrument he’s had his whole life to master. 

“Why are you doing this to me, you fucking sadistic asshole, please, I can’t, _Theo!”_ Stiles cries out, one of his hands coming back to hold on to Theo’s left forearm, the other gripping his own hair in despair.

“Right here,” Theo carries on, fingers tracing the place where Stiles’ torso ends and his leg begins, the faint V shape of it, “runs your superficial inferior epigastric artery and vein,” he tells him, bites his lip, “it’s also roughly the place of the insertion of your oblique muscles.”

Stiles can’t keep quiet anymore. The little sounds coming out of Stiles’ mouth catch Theo’s attention again, and he looks up, pulls at Stiles’ sweats and underwear slowly and Stiles’ looks down at him, pleading.

“And speaking of muscles,” Theo drags, voice low; he drags at the hem of Stiles’ clothes, until the hair there is all exposed and the base of Stiles’ cock is visible, strained against the material. Stiles’ feel his heart jump, race, feels it like a crescendo. Theo is almost, _almost_ done with this, has to be, “a curious one, that tenses your _linea alba_ ,” Theo says, free hand running through the midline on Stiles’ abs, “the pyramidalis muscle.”

And Theo kisses the skin just above the base of Stiles’ dick, before he pulls Stiles’ clothes the rest of the way down in a swift move and Stiles cries out at the sudden freedom, when his erection springs free.

“Fuck!” Stiles cries out.

He doesn’t get a single second to recover as Theo’s mouth is immediately on him, around the head, sucking like he means to say _sorry,_ and Stiles straight up _shouts_ at the sensation.

Theo is relentless; his hand comes to wrap around the base of Stiles’ cock and moves with a familiarity around the shaft that makes Stiles feel like his whole body is catching on fire, and Stiles could honestly _cry_.

This is it, this is fucking it, he’s going to fucking burst with all the tension he built up, his body is going to fucking _disintegrate._

“Oh, my god, Theo,” he whines, “oh, my god, I’m not gonna last, I’m not gonna- Theo!” Stiles calls out, but Theo doesn’t ease up for a second, sucking around him, moving his head in swift coordinated moves, not losing a single second messing around, like he’s making up for Stiles.

It doesn’t take long at all before Stiles’ legs are shaking, trying to hold off, trying to control his release because _fuck, it’s too soon_ and the only warning he can give Theo besides a pained moan, is his hand pulling at the other boy’s hair, to no avail.

He comes with an explosion of sensations that makes his whole body jerk before he can control it, all the pent up energy and frustration lashing out in violent waves that make his back arch off the bed, no matter how much Theo tries to hold him down, a scream barely repressed on the back of his throat transforming into tears in his eyes.

Stiles breathes again like he has been underwater and at the very limit of his lungs.

“Fuck,” Stiles whimpers. It was fucking incredible. He feels high. It takes him a few minutes to come back to Earth. _Shit_ , this boy...

The hand he has on Theo’s hair goes soft and he starts petting his hair instead, absentmindedly, up until Theo crawls up Stiles’ body and Stiles barely has his eyes opened when Theo kisses him. “How’s my anatomy knowledge, then?” Theo teases, and the way his voice sounds rough from sucking Stiles off makes all sorts of funny feelings erupt in his stomach.

It takes him a second, but Stiles looks at Theo with a teasing smirk of his own, pushes at Theo’s shoulder until he’s on his back and Stiles is the one on top.

“I’ll just show you what I’ve learned,” Stiles says, before he slides down Theo’s body, gets this erratic feeling of nervous pride bursting on his chest at how Theo laughs in that cocky way of his, but his breathing still catches with Stiles’ movements. 

He doesn’t know how to tear Theo apart like Theo does to him, he wishes he did, that he had the confidence to talk to him like Theo talks to Stiles, that he knew how to play his body like Theo plays his. 

Not that Theo ever complained, but Stiles is a proud stubborn asshole, and he will keep practicing until he learns.

There’s no denying that Stiles was always a very good student.

**Author's Note:**

> if you'd like to come talk about this, or just talk in general, come [find me on tumblr](https://whereshiphappens.tumblr.com/)


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